


The Merits of Not Knowing How to Jump Your Car

by dannyPURO



Series: The Merits of Proper Vehicular Care [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mechanics, Domestic Fluff, Enjolras still doesn't know how cars work, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-16 00:08:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15424674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dannyPURO/pseuds/dannyPURO
Summary: There are many, many things that Enjolras likes about dating Grantaire. He likes Grantaire, first and foremost; he likes waking up next to him and kissing him and talking to him and getting to know him and he likes being around him. He likes their little debates over politics and he likes the way he’ll go on and on about Greek myth when he’s tired and he likes the way Grantaire seems to know every restaurant, coffee shop, and bar in the city. He likes Grantaire’s eyes and his nose and his hair and his fucking hands and his tattoos and his dick.He also likes the fact that dating Grantaire means he has a mechanic on call at all times.





	The Merits of Not Knowing How to Jump Your Car

**Author's Note:**

> Back by popular demand-- and by popular demand, I mean two people who said they wanted more. I aim to please.
> 
> You don't need to read the first fic in the series-- it's pretty much just porn, anyways, but it gives a little background. Just a little, though. Cheers.

There are many, many things that Enjolras likes about dating Grantaire. He likes Grantaire, first and foremost; he likes waking up next to him and kissing him and talking to him and getting to know him and he likes being around him. He likes their little debates over politics and he likes the way he’ll go on and on about Greek myth when he’s tired and he likes the way Grantaire seems to know every restaurant, coffee shop, and bar in the city. He likes Grantaire’s eyes and his nose and his hair and his fucking  _ hands _ and his tattoos and his dick.

He also likes the fact that dating Grantaire means he has a mechanic on call at all times.

“Grantaire?” Enjolras sits against the hood of his car, his phone tucked between his ear and his shoulder, his blazer folded beside him.

“Hey, Enj.” He can hear Grantaire shushing Bahorel on the other line before he continues, presumably outside the building and away from Bahorel’s raucous laughter. “What’s up?”

Enjolras bites his lip. “Is this a bad time?”

“‘Course not. What’s up? I’m seeing you tonight, right? Did you miss me so much you had to call me at work?”

He sighs, readies himself for, at the very least, Bahorel’s mockery, if not Grantaire’s lighthearted version. “My car won’t start. I’m in the parking lot at work and it just won’t turn over.”

He hears Grantaire snort a muffled, but distinctive, laugh. “Is that so? You’re not just trying to get me over there to hang out with you?”

“Grantaire,” he says, dangerously close to whining. “Are you going to help me or not?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there in fifteen,” he says, lifesaver that he is. “But for real, Apollo, if you keep making me help you with your vehicular woes while I’m at work Bahorel is gonna make you start paying.”

“Thank you,” he says, and he pauses, just for a moment. Grantaire waits. “I love you.”

He can practically hear the grin spread across Grantaire’s face when he says, right back, “Love you too.”

The  _ I love you _ thing is pretty new. Very new, actually. They’ve been together for four months, now, maybe a little more, and it was only a few nights ago that Enjolras had, very awkwardly, brought up the subject of feelings. 

(“I am under the belief,” he’d said, like a fucking tool, while they were eating dessert, “that- not that this is particularly my area of expertise, of course, but I am under the opinion that communication is a fundamental part of any successful relationship, and though it makes me incredibly nervous to tell you this, I think that it is important that I let you know that I- that I love you. So…” He’d faded off, somehow even less confident than when he began.

Grantaire had just smiled, though, and brushed a finger across Enjolras’s knuckles. “I love you too.”)

Enjolras is kind of ridiculously happy about the  _ I love you _ thing.

Grantaire’s familiar truck rumbles into view, just as promised, about fifteen minutes later. Enjolras may or may not be stupidly fond of the truck, too. (Admittedly, the fact that Grantaire fucked him in the truck, twice, might have helped to that avail.)

“Car trouble?” He calls out the window, parking in front of Enjolras’s car.

Enjolras scowls. “I don’t know what happened. It just won’t… work.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Grantaire says, and Enjolras might be annoyed, but then he presses a little kiss to Enjolras’s cheek, and he just can’t quite manage it.

“Can you fix it?”

“No. It’s irreparable. You’ll have to scrap it and blow all your savings on a new car.” Grantaire is joking, Enjolras is… almost sure, but he’s sure his eyes widen anyways, because Grantaire laughs and shakes his head. “I’m kidding. I just need to jump it. It’ll take five minutes, if that. Here, I even brought cables.”

Enjolras watches as he pops both hoods and uses the two cables to connect the two engines. “Should I do something?” he asks, hovering somewhere over Grantaire’s shoulder. 

He straightens up, nearly knocking into Enjolras. Which is fine. “Yeah. Get in your car and just start it when I tell you to.”

That’s something that Enjolras can do. He goes to start his engine.

Nothing happens.

“Nothing happened,” he reports, disgruntled.

Grantaire is still standing outside his truck, arms crossed, smiling. “When I tell you to, I said.”

“Oh.”

He waits, this time, lets Grantaire start his engine first, and when Grantaire gives him a nod, he follows suit. 

Grantaire must be a fucking mechanical genius, because the car starts. Enjolras breathes a sigh of relief and watches as Grantaire disconnects the cables, then rolls down his window when Grantaire approaches and leans on the side of the car.

“You’re gonna need to drive it for a while,” Grantaire says.

Enjolras nods. “Like for an hour?”

Sometimes, Enjolras gets the feeling that he knows even less about cars than he thought he did. The look on Grantaire’s face-- like he’s about to burst out laughing, enforces this feeling. “For fifteen minutes, Enj. The battery just needs to charge.”

“Okay.” Enjolras drums his fingers on the steering wheel, then looks back up at Grantaire hopefully.

Grantaire smiles. “You’re lucky you’re so cute.” He leans in and presses a kiss to Enjolras’s lips. A peck, really. It’s so domestic Enjolras wants to scream. “So can I assume you’ll remember how to jump your car now, and you’ll never need me to help you out ever again?”

Enjolras scowls, but it fades fast when Grantaire cups his jaw in hand and runs his thumb across Enjolras’s cheekbone. 

“I’m fucking with you,” he says, and he lets Enjolras pull him in for another kiss. “I need to go back to work so I can clock out, okay? Drive home and I’ll meet you there.”

Home being Enjolras’s apartment. Not that Grantaire lives there, of course (not yet), but he spends enough nights over there that he might as well. He’s got extra clothes tucked into a drawer alongside Enjolras’s own, and he’s got a toothbrush in the bathroom, and he even keeps some of his art supplies there, too, right on the coffee table. It’s really, really nice. Enjolras figures he should probably ask Grantaire about moving in sometime soon. Not right away, but soon. Enjolras figures he would really, really like living with Grantaire.

He sits down on the couch when he gets home, orders takeout from the Thai place they like, texts Grantaire to grab it on his way home, and waits.

He must have drifted off, because he wakes to Grantaire running his fingers through his hair. “Nice,” he murmurs, leaning into the touch.

Grantaire laughs quietly. “Long day?”

“Very.” It had been a long day. Lawyering, as Marius had said one, is very emotionally taxing. “Did you get the food?”

Grantaire nods and tugs him upright, lets him lean against his shoulder and passes him a plate of pad thai. He’s good like that.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Enjolras says, nuzzling in against Grantaire’s neck as Grantaire wraps an arm around his shoulders.

“You’d’ve given Combeferre an aneurysm by now, that’s what.” Grantaire starts running his fingers through Enjolras’s hair again absentmindedly. “You know you can always call me if you need help, right?”

Enjolras frowns, not knowing where he’s going with this. “Of course. I do. I just did.”

“Good. Good.”

“R?”

Grantaire sighs. “It’s just… I know I tease you about it, but I really don’t mind, and I don’t want you to think that I’d ever not help you out, because I always will, and I don’t want you to get stuck somewhere for some dumb car reason when you could just call me.”

Enjolras can’t help but smile. “You like fixing my car, don’t you.”

“I like being around you.”

“Lucky. I like being around you, too.”

They eat dinner on the couch, and they talk about shitty customers and shitty coworkers, and what Bahorel and Marius got up to this time, and Enjolras goes to put their dishes in the sink while Grantaire stands up with a groan. 

“I should shower,” Grantaire says. “I smell like an engine.”

Enjolras flushes, just a little-- and if asked, he would deny it, but he (not so) secretly likes the way Grantaire smells when he gets home from work: like sweat and motor oil and, well, Grantaire. And if he’s to be perfectly honest, there’s a reason he popped a boner the first time he met Grantaire; he just likes the guy. “Do you want any company?” he asks, voice low.

Grantaire comes up behind him, wraps his arms around his waist, and leans in close. Christ. “I wouldn’t be opposed.”

Enjolras lets Grantaire tug him down the hall and into the bathroom and lets him unbutton his shirt before going in for a kiss. He pulls away before long, though, to turn on the shower and to watch, arms crossed, as Grantaire strips out of his coveralls and his shirt.

God, he’s hot.

“God, you’re hot.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Grantaire says, but there’s a flush spreading down his chest that Enjolras has become quite well acquainted with that indicates he might just be a little more affected than he lets on. “Just get in the shower already.”

Who is Enjolras to refuse? He strips himself of the rest of his clothes, leaves them in a folded pile on the side of the sink, and obliges. 

Grantaire joins him a moment later, and it’s a little cramped, but really, it’s just nice. Enjolras likes the way Grantaire’s body feels against his own. He likes the feeling of Grantaire’s broad hands on his skin, in his hair. 

He lets his eyes slide shut as Grantaire lathers shampoo in his hair. Grantaire had said, once, that he is like a cat turned human, and though he’d protested at the time, he has to admit, this is nice. Really nice. He figures he could stand here, under the hot water, with Grantaire’s loving fingers running through his hair forever.

That would be selfish, though, and besides, there’s lots of other things to do that he enjoys as well, so he lets Grantaire rinse the suds from his hair and then turns to wash Grantaire’s.

“I keep telling you,” Grantaire says, and it’s the first thing from either of them since they got in the shower. “It’s a waste for you to use your fancy cruelty-free shampoo on my hair when I’m just gonna get it sweaty tomorrow. You should save it for your golden locks, Apollo.”

Enjolras frowns. “I like your hair. There’s no need for you to abuse it with sulfates. We’ve talked about this before.” 

“You mean, Jehan told you about sulfates and made sad eyes while holding your hands and you were so moved that you felt the need to rope me in on it, too.”

“Perhaps.”

Grantaire stifles a smile. “All right, do as you will.” He tilts his head back so Enjolras can wash his hair. And if he spends more time doing so than is strictly necessary, running his fingers through Grantaire’s dark curls and watching the way the shampoo slips from them and runs down Grantaire’s shoulders, his back? That’s his business.

“Right,” Enjolras says, when he’s done, and he turns Grantaire around with hands on his shoulders. “Do you want to have sex?”

Grantaire laughs, surprised and delighted sounding. Very genuine. It’s one of Enjolras’s favorite sounds, if he’s to be honest. “Right to the point, I guess.”

Enjolras doesn’t scowl, per se; Courfeyrac calls the face the  _ pout _ , and Enjolras resents him for it. “We don’t have to. We could watch a movie, if you want.” That’s him being honest again, because really, he’s content to do anything in the world, so long as it’s with Grantaire.

The embrace that Grantaire pulls him into catches him off guard, and he finds himself nestled against his chest, Grantaire’s face pressed to the top of his head.

“R?”

“I love you so much,” he says. “Sometimes, I can’t believe I get to have this.”

Enjolras presses a kiss to his collarbone. “Of course you get to have this. I love you too.”

They spend another moment or two just there, together, under the spray of the shower and relishing in the comfortable isolation from the rest of the world, before Grantaire pulls away by only a fraction of any real measurement. 

“Sex, then?”

Enjolras breathes a laugh. “Sure.”

He slips a hand down, down, down Grantaire’s chest, and his stomach, and the planes of his pelvis, before he reaches his cock and gives it a firm stroke. 

Grantaire groans. “Just like that.”

Enjolras does so without complaint. He shifts forwards, taking in the hot, heavy feel of Grantaire in his hand, the water on his back, the feel of Grantaire’s skin against his own, and he can’t help but to mouth at Grantaire’s neck, rub up against his leg. It’s so wonderful; he thinks he’s even making little, whimpering sounds, contrasting but so, so connected to Grantaire’s deep, satisfied groans. 

“R-” he manages, but he doesn’t know what he was planning on saying next. “R-”

Grantaire reaches down and takes both their cocks in a broad, calloused hand, and Enjolras fucking  _ keens _ . 

“Oh, I love you,” he says, and Grantaire just holds him close. It feels nice, too, not to have to worry about saying that. To know that he can blurt it out, like an idiot, and Grantaire will still believe him. To not have to worry about messing that part up, at the very least. “C’mon, give me-”

Grantaire captures his lips in a kiss and keeps jerking them off, together, at a relentless pace, and it’s a good thing Grantaire is so god damned strong, and that he’s got an arm around Enjolras’s waist, because there’s no way he’d be able to hold himself up right now. 

When Enjolras comes, it’s almost a shock to him, and he collapses against Grantaire’s chest, panting. Grantaire finishes off just seconds later.

“Shit,” Grantaire says, letting the shower wash the cum from his hand before running gentle fingers through Enjolras’s hair. “Wow.”

“Wow,” Enjolras agrees. He pulls Grantaire down to steal a quick kiss, little more than lips against lips, but it’s nice anyways. “Do you want to get out of the shower now?” he asks, when he pulls away.

“Probably a good idea.” Grantaire turns off the water and tugs Enjolras out of the shower, then passes him a towel from the rack to the side.

They dry off half-heartedly, then make their way to the bedroom. 

“Just a quick nap,” Enjolras says, curling up underneath the comforter.

Grantaire nods and shuffles close, letting Enjolras curl around him as he pleases. “Whatever you want.”

Enjolras falls asleep to the sound of the heartbeat of the man he loves, and when they wake up, forty minutes later, Grantaire kisses him deep and slow and wonderful, and Enjolras decides that letting Combeferre convince him to go to the mechanic four months ago was the best decision he has ever made in his life.

**Author's Note:**

> Does Enjolras carry jumper cables in his trunk, you ask? No, he does not. Why, you ask? Aren't they included when you purchase the car? They are, but they have disappeared and nobody knows how or why. Grantaire knows many things and he comes prepared.


End file.
